Gaius Master Master

[neverwouldiever]

Let's fuck over history.

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[neverwouldiever]

This was really not going well. Ancient Rome was just fine, he liked ancient Rome! In small doses, anyway. Visiting some friends, staying clear of people being fed to lions, lavish banquets, it could all be a grand old time.

This wasn't quite his idea of that. There were entirely too many chains involved. More importantly, his plan for getting to the Master's fobwatch really hadn't actually included getting caught. It also really hadn't involved being accused of thievery and no possible scenario ever included all of his talking just leading to being brought in front of the Master and ordered to kneel by a really unfriendly guard.

"I will not." That was said with a lot of pride, but it also led to getting pushed to the ground and held there, which didn't make it one of his more triumphant displays of defiance. If only he could get to the sonic screwdriver, but with his hands chained that was rather out of question at the moment. So he just focused on the Master, tilting his head a little. "Hey you."

[standsonhigh]

It had been two days since that strange man had been brought to him and it still left Marcus exceptionally unsettled. To his knowledge, he hadn't mentioned those drums in his head aloud in a very long time so how that fraudster knew of them, he couldn't understand. Unless... unless he heard them too? He wished he could make sense of the strange, to know if he could trust him or even talk to him more. But sadly, it wasn't easy. The more he thought about these things, the more they hurt his head.

And as much as he loathed a headache, he couldn't help himself. The morning of the second day, he had the Doctor returned to him so they could talk properly. He had requested the strange doctor be bound as tightly as possible and that the guards stood outside while they spoke this time.

He didn't need lessers knowing his business.

[neverwouldiever]

By this point the Doctor had no idea what brought this on. Probably something about freedom as a concept, maybe he'd smiled too much or perhaps it was simply one of these days the drums could only be drowned out by his screams.

He hated to give in, he hated showing weakness. But while he was stronger than many gave him credit for, there was no way he could bear hot iron against his shoulder without screaming.

The Doctor's arms were raised above him, shackled together with a chain running to the ceiling. It was hot in here and he was thirsty. There was some kind of crude leather bit tied between his lips. It wasn't enough to silence his screams, but he figured it was mostly to keep him from biting his own tongue.

When the iron was finally removed, he was shaking, only the chain keeping him from falling to his knees. He turned his head to the side to press his face against his upper arm, desperately trying to get his breathing under control. No crying, that wouldn't do.